The ZERO Potential
by MaesterDimentio
Summary: The number zero: a number often disregarded. Considered empty, useless, and of no value. And yet, everyone begins their lives as a zero. It is never easy to become more than zero, yet everyone has the potential to. Sometimes, it just takes more than one zero to join together for that to happen. Follow these 'zeroes' as they find their place in the world of Remnant.
1. Prologue 1: A Heart Frozen

**_Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. Monty Oum of Rooster Teeth does.  
Also, I hate Disclaimers; they seem so pointless sometimes..._**

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**Prologue 1: A Heart Frozen**

Near the edge of the Forever Fall Forest, in a bustling village filled with friendly townsfolk, sat a young man on the edge of a pond. To many, it would seem risky and foolish to build a village in the Forever Fall, but the villagers all knew of the dangers. They had chosen their lives and they were willing to pay the price for it, including the young man. Despite the heat of the summer sun beating down upon him, he wore clothes that one would normally wear during the winter months: a black jacket that was halfway buttoned up, revealing a navy blue shirt beneath it, a pair of grey cargo pants held up by a white belt with a midnight blue sheath hanging from the right side, and a similarly colored scarf wrapped around his neck, one end of it hanging low against the ground. The sleeves of his jacket had an ice-white ring of spikes rising along the forearms and a crest in the shape of a snowflake made of swords was on the end of his scarf, also ice-white. His clothes seemed as if they had been chosen specifically to spite the sun, but it was not the only thing that seemed to be directly mocking the celestial body.

At the sight before his pale blue eyes, he smiled. Children of all ages from his village were playing on one of the small ponds outside the village, on top of a thick layer of ice that had formed. He closed his eyes and let the sounds of joy from the children wash over him. It was his job to both protect them and make them happy and, despite his only being 15, he and all of the other villagers would agree that he was doing a damn fine job of protecting them.

Just as his father had.

His name was Zander Pagos, and he was the leader of the village militia. The ice that had formed on the pond had been his doing, thanks in no small part to his gift, his Semblance. With it, he could drop the temperature around him to freezing, and while it had no practical purpose outside of combat, he could still use it to bring some cheer to his young charges.

Opening his eyes, he stood up and dusted himself off, despite hardly a speck of dirt actually getting on his person. A sudden blur of motion from the red leafed trees near the village caught his eye. Squinting, he frowned and cursed silently as he saw a group of black shapes emerge from the forest: a pack of Beowolves, numbering at least a dozen. They weren't the reason that he'd cursed, however: Beowolves constantly hounded their village in hopes of destroying it, only to be repelled at every attempt. It was almost planned, monthly occurrence. What had him upset was that he now had to ruin the village children's fun. They rarely, if ever, got to enjoy going outside during the winter due to how cold it could get and he'd planned today for months. But, better to ruin their fun than to let them get hurt.

Placing his left thumb and index finger in his mouth, he blew three sharp notes out. The children, recognizing the signal, all stopped what they were doing and turned their attentions to him. As they saw his eyes resting on something past them, they turned their heads to see it for themselves and all cried out in surprise as they saw the approaching pack of Grimm. They all began to run, not from fear, but out of duty, preparing to warn the village militia of the approaching threat. As they passed by Zander, he slowly began marching towards the monsters, his right hand straying to the hilt of the strange weapon stowed away in its sheath. "I really hate these things, they just never get the message." he muttered as he walked towards them.

As the distance between the two parties closed, he drew his oddly designed weapon. Known as the Peacekeeper, it was a sword with a bluish white blade and a dark blue hilt. The pommel was a handgun and, though small, it was strong enough to produce significant recoil and pierce through the hide of any Grimm. Holding it in an underhanded fashion, he raised it and took aim with the gun, zeroing in on the closest enemies. As he readied his shot, a faint mist began to encircle his body as the ground around his feet began to crackle, a sheet of ice slowly creeping from his feet over the earth. He paused for a moment, took in a breath, and checked his aim. His finger squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet rocketing towards the nearest Beowolf, striking it in the head and killing it instantly. The remainder of the pack began to pick up their speed at the sign of the new threat, howling in anger at the death of their companion. Unfazed, he leveled the Peacekeeper's barrel at the next closest target and fired. Another Beowolf dropped, followed by two more.

Only eight left to exterminate.

Crouching low to the ground and pointing the barrel of the Peacekeeper behind him, he waited until one of the monsters was almost upon him, the Grimm's fangs glistening with saliva. At that moment, he pulled the trigger. The combination of recoil from the Peacekeeper and the smooth surface of the ice that had formed around him propelled him forwards. Leaping at the monster, he spun in midair, bringing the Peacekeeper's blade across the Beowolf's midsection. It crumpled to the ground as black mist began oozing from its corpse. Just before he landed, he clicked the heels of his boots together, causing a pair of blades to pop out of their bottoms. Landing smoothly on the ice, he skated past two of the monsters that were coming at him and sliced at a third, catching it in the neck before turning to the two that had charged him and placing a round in each of their heads. The recoil from the shots blew him back as he caught a glimpse of black in the ice's reflection. Holding the Peacekeeper so the barrel pointed to his right side, he fired off and jumped straight up, spinning as he came into contact with another of the creatures and cutting through it twice before landing.

The remaining three Grimm began to circle him warily as he just stood in the center of them and watched. As if an unseen signal had been given, the three beasts howled as one and leapt high into the air, ready to use their claws to tear him apart. Grinning, Zander began firing off the rest of the Peacemaker's current clip, spinning around as his blade flashed in the sunlight like a blue cyclone. The three Beowolves must have realized what was happening, as they all let out surprised cries just before they landed on him, being torn to ribbons by his blade.

Twelve Beowolves had come from the forest; twelve Beowolves were now dead.

Coming to a sudden stop from his spin, Zander shook his head to shake away the dizziness. "Might want to reconsider doing that one again…" he thought aloud. Holding back the wave of nausea that was coming over him, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. The ice at his feet began to melt immediately as he clicked his boots together again, causing the blades on the bottoms to retract. He couldn't help but chuckle when an old argument came up in his memory. "They all said I was crazy for adding ice skates to these things. Well, who just used them to kill a dozen stinking Grimm?" He looked up at the sun and smiled when he saw it was still somewhat high in the sky. "It's not too long past noon. The kids might be able to keep playing after all. Guess I'm getting faster at this job." He started to turn around, ready to head back to his village, when a smell filled his nose and made his blood run cold.

Smoke.

Something was on fire. Something close by.

And it wasn't the Forest.

"The village!" he screamed, whirling around. An icy cold hand clutched his heart as he saw the plumes of black smoke roiling up from the village as flames burned through the buildings. He charged towards it, ready to do everything he could to save it, when he caught sight of a group of villagers running from the burning town. "Over here!" he shouted, trying to get them to where he could protect them. His cries fell on deaf ears as they kept running, only for a pack of black shapes to leap from the flames and onto them, their screams muffled by the Beowolves' howls of delight. "No!" he cried, pumping his legs faster as he ran to the villagers' aid, only to let out a cry of shock as he suddenly tripped and hit the ground. Rising to his hands and knees, he looked up at his burning home as a large black shape suddenly emerged from the flames.

It was a Beowolf, bigger than any that he'd ever seen before, bigger than most of the houses in the village. Along with the normal spikes on its back, three larger spikes ran along its spine. Multiple deep gashes ran along the bone plates on its body, with two particularly nasty looking ones crossing over its left eye, which appeared to be missing. It looked around the destruction of the village, at its fellow Beowolves, at the carnage, and threw its head back as it let out a piercing howl. With a sudden and powerful leap, it charged straight at Zander, who fumbled for his weapon as he scrambled to his feet. It brought back one of its paws to strike him. He closed his eyes as he prepared for its claws to cut through him. Instead, it slammed into the ground in front of him, causing him to jump. The beast had stopped in front of him and was staring down at him, its red eye glowing with malice. He fell back in fear, his eyes locked onto its.

"Just do it." he whispered.

Instead, it bent its head down and sniffed him before turning around and running back into the chaos of his village. He sat there, helpless as he watched the place he called home and the people he loved, the people he was supposed to protect, all vanish in the fires.

He'd been trusted with their lives and he'd failed all of them.

As the horrific fact hit him, the last thing he recalled before blacking out was the larger Beowolf howling to the sky, its figure silhouetted by the vicious flames.

* * *

Two years later, he was hearing the same howl, only in a different pitch.

The Beowolf lying on the ground wasn't the one he'd seen chasing him through his nightmares at night. It wasn't the one who tore apart his home, his life, his very existence, with its teeth and claws. But it was a Beowolf and it was suffering: it brought at least a small bit of satisfaction to him. He'd learned since that horrible day. He'd trained with both the Peacekeeper and his Semblance, and had learned something about the latter: if he focused enough, he could freeze any source of water, even if it wasn't immediately around him.

Like the moisture around a Beowolf's arms and legs.

The one in front of him had experienced his new technique and was suffering because of it. Both of its arms had been shattered by bullets from his Peacekeeper after he'd frozen them and he'd hacked off one of its legs, leaving it to simply wriggle around. It had been put in the arena with him ready to tear him to pieces. Now, it struggled pitifully to get away from him. It might have taken a lot of his stamina for it to work as he intended, but he definitely enjoyed the results. He merely walked around in front of it, the tip of his blade hovering over its skull. He threw a glance upwards, towards the man standing in the balcony of the arena: Headmaster Ozpin, of the prestigious Beacon Academy. Somehow the man had tracked him down with the request of showing him his abilities. Zander could only guess what the man wanted, but it didn't matter; he was being given the chance to enjoy his favorite pastime:

Torturing Beowolves.

Looking back down at the wounded and worthless creature, he felt his lips curl into a grimace at what he saw in its eyes. It was a familiar emotion, one that he'd felt, and one that he was sure every single person in his village had felt, on the night that he'd lost everything. A surge of pure anger flooded through him as he recognized it.

It was fear.

It was afraid of him.

It wanted him to show it mercy.

And that enraged him.

Flipping around the Peacekeeper and pointing the barrel of the weapon at its body, he fired off every one of the shots in its fifteen round clip, each bullet ripping through its body. "Monsters like you don't get mercy." he whispered as its howls filled his ears. After a few moments of watching it twitch, and with a howl of his own, he brought the blade up in the air and plunged it directly into its spine. As its howls cut off abruptly and its body began to let out mist, he looked up at Ozpin. "You like what you saw?" he questioned, panting heavily from the sheer amount of energy using his Semblance like that had cost him. _It was worth it…_

The man took a sip from his mug before answering. "Yes, actually. It lacked… finesse, but it was very impressive, nonetheless. In fact, I was wondering about something." Zander tore the blade from the Beowolf's back before looking up at Ozpin and motioning for him to continue. "Have you ever considered a career as a Huntsman? You would be able to hunt all the Beowolves you could ever want to."

For the first time in two years, Zander Pagos smiled.

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**_Just a little idea I came up with after watching the first season of RWBY again... I'm not quite sure just how well it turned out, but as long as people enjoy it, I'll be happy._**

**_Anyways, I'd like to thank anyone who took the time to read this. If you would be so kind as to leave a review, it would be very much appreciated. Regardless of whether you do or do not, I hope you have a wonderful day._**


	2. Prologue 2: A Sound Like Thunder

**_Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY._**

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**Prologue 2: A Sound Like Thunder**

Bored and sitting a train station, a certain individual was playing a tune on the metal of a bench with a pair of drumsticks. The tune he played didn't carry much of a rhythm. At random intervals, he would either make it faster or slower, hit the metal harder or softer, introduce new elements to the tune or take them away. To him, it didn't matter what it sounded like, so much as he enjoyed the sound.

After a few minutes, and finally being content with the sounds he'd created, he put away the drumsticks in the front pocket of his rust-colored pullover. Beneath that he wore a deep green shirt and wore a pair of black jeans over a pair of red running shoes. Situated on his head and surrounding his closely shaved brown hair was a black headband with an orange musical note that was grinning mischievously. His green eyes shined with energy, though they also shone with boredom. "So, when was the train supposed to get here, bro?" he asked the figure who was sprawled out on the bench, their face covered by the wide brimmed black hat they wore over their face. He frowned when he didn't get a reply and upon removing the hat, his suspicions that his elder brother had fallen asleep were true. "Typical Riff…" he muttered. "Aren't _you_ supposed to be the one who keep me from falling asleep?"

Laughing about his brother's narcoleptic tendencies, he decided to walk over to the board where the schedule was posted. Apologizing as he stumbled past some of the early-morning commuters, he arrived at the sign. _So, it's at… NOON?! But that's over three hours from now! How am I supposed to wait __**that **__long… _Grumbling in frustration, he started to turn to go back to his brother when he heard it.

A woman's scream.

His head immediately jerked in the direction that it came from. He ignored the looks from the passers-by; they hadn't heard it after all. _So, that's how I'm going to kill the time, eh? _He reached down to his sides to feel for his weapons and, satisfied that everything was where it was supposed to be, took off with a determined grin on his face. "Nothing like a good workout, I suppose!" he shouted with a grin, much to everyone else's confusion and a certain sleepy person's chagrin.

* * *

"Just let me go!" the woman, barely in her late twenties, shouted at the three men that were approaching her. They all wore the same clothing: dark red hooded jackets over white shirts and black pants with fingerless black gloves. Their eyes were obscured by pairs of black glasses, though anyone could tell their eyes held nothing but malicious intent.

"Relax, girlie, we ain't gonna hurt ya." a thug said, holding his arms out in a friendly manner. "All we want is a bit of cash. Consider it a sound investment towards ya future. After all, the world's a scary place, and the Mourning Sons might not be able to protect you from everything if we don't have enough money." With a slow movement, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, skinny cylinder. With a quick flick of the wrist, it extended into a baton the length of his forearm. "Of course, the Mourning Sons might be a bit scary too, if ya get what I'm saying." he threatened, pointing the baton's end at her as it crackled with electricity.

"Who the hell are the Mourning Sons?" a voice asked from behind all of them. Turning around, the three thugs were all surprised to see a large young man dressed in orange and black leaning against the doorway that led to the room they were in, a lazy grin on his face. "I mean, none of you three look that bright. Then again, I suppose it is pretty early." The grin widened as he pointed at the window behind the three. "Hey, I even see one of your buddies out there. Shouldn't you invite him in?"

One of the three turned around to see what the young man was pointing at. "The hell's he talkin' about? There ain't no one out there!" At the sound of snickering, the thug turned back around to see the young man holding his stomach as he stifled a laugh. "Hey, what the hell's so funny, ya punk?!" he shouted.

At this, the young man stopped laughing and frowned. "Seriously? You're telling me you don't get it?" He held out one of his hands. "Mourning Sons," he held out his other hand, "and morning sun? Come on, that was golden right there!" Sighing at the confused expressions on everyone's faces, even the woman's, he shrugged. "Alright, not the kind of guys who like jokes. Fine with me." Turning serious, he got up from the doorframe and pointed a finger at the three goons. "You three are in serious trouble right now. Do you know who I am?" He raised a hand when one of the men started to talk. "Ah, ah, ah, don't talk. Of course you don't. At least, not yet."

Clearing his throat, he clapped his hands together, which created a surprisingly loud sound, even despite the fact that they were all in an abandoned apartment building. "I go by many names, though there are only two that you may call me today. The first one is simple: I am the one who is going to bring you three scumbags to justice!" Smirking, he looked at the three of them. "But you must want to know my real name! Fine then! I'll tell you, and may it resound in your hearts for years to come!" He suddenly thrust his left palm out towards them, turning his head down and away from them while resting his right hand on the top of one of the weapons strapped to his side. "The one whose cries go above all others! I am: Echoing Drumbeat!" he declared. "Though I'll accept 'Echo', if you want to just call me that."

The same thought ran through everyone's heads: _This is the __**stupidest **__young man in existence._

Ignoring the looks he was getting from the three thugs, Echo reached for the two weapons at his sides, deciding to leave the one strapped to the back of his waist out of any potential fight. "Alright, now, we can do this one of two ways. You can either come quietly or-"

"Kill the brat!" the man with the baton yelled as the other two pulled out concealed handguns from their jackets.

"Guess you guys would rather take option two!" Echo shouted as he dove behind the doorframe and away from the volley of bullets that were coming his direction. Pulling the two weapons from their holsters, he ducked behind a section of wall as the sound of footsteps began to approach them. Dubbed the Lyd Hammers, they were a pair of two foot long, black clubs with rounded orange tips, giving them the look of oversized drumsticks. "That's fine, cause I enjoy that option just as much as anyone." he whispered to himself.

As he saw the barrel of a pistol emerge from past the section of wall he hid behind, he exploded into action, ducking low and driving one of his clubs into the man's midsection as he rounded the corner. The pistol clattered to the floor as the man gasped for air. With a second swing, Echo sent the man flying into the far wall, knocking him out just as his partner drew his sights on their attacker. Before the man had a chance to fire, Echo swung the Hammer in his right hand at the man, pressing a button near its grip. The tip flew off, connected to the base by a thick chain, and struck the man in the face, breaking his glasses and likely his nose. As he crumpled, Echo drew back the tip of his weapon with another click and ran back towards the room, where only the man with the baton was standing, an angry sneer on his face.

"Ya think you're tough!? You ain't nuthin', ya hear me!?" he shouted, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, a dozen men dressed like him emerged from the shadows, each carrying batons like him. "Boys, let's teach this little punk why ya don't mess with-UMPH!" He was cut off as one of the Lyd Hammers' tips flew into his stomach, making him double over in pain.

"Hey, the pointless bantering is my schtick, got it!?" he joked, though he quickly turned serious as the dozen other men began to close in on him. Turning over the Hammer in his right hand, he connected its base to the one in his left, causing a loud click. Now wielding a four foot pole dubbed the Hammerstaff, he clicked the button to extend one of the tips as he started to spin it overhead, causing all of the men to jump back in fear of being hit. "So, is it the 'Mourning Sons' or the 'Mourning Daughters'?" he asked.

With growls, all of the men began to move. Laughing as he did, Echo began to move around the room, using wide, sweeping arcs to throw each of the men off balance and force them into the spot he wanted them at: the wall that faced outside. The moment he had them all in that spot, he grinned. _Time to bring the show to a close._ Bringing the assault to a stop, he pulled the weapon hanging from the back of his waist out and held it out for everyone to see. It was a silver spike-like weapon, a foot-and-a-half in length. Before anyone could react, he stabbed it into the ground and quickly split his Hammerstaff in two. With a loud cry, he pounded the end of the spike with one of the Lyd Hammers, causing it to sink further into the ground as a disk began to expand outwards from the top, creating a two-foot circular flat surface.

Realizing they had a chance for attack, all of the men charged him, their stun batons ready and set to their highest settings. As all thirteen of them closed in on him, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, raising the Hammers above his head. When the thugs were about on him, he opened his eyes and brought both of the Hammers down onto the flat surface of the spike.

All thirteen men were flung backwards as a wall of sheer force slammed into them, knocking them into the opposite wall. Echo kept hitting the surface of the weapon he'd stabbed into the ground, causing more and more waves of energy to shoot out and strike at his opponents. It was known as the Symphonic Spike, and it contained an Air Dust Crystal that extended the area the sound the Spike made whenever struck. When coupled with his Semblance, which allowed him to manipulate sound into walls of force or hear things from a great distance, no one could touch him in a fight.

As the drumbeats became more and more frequent and greater in intensity, the wall the thugs were plastered to began to crack. As realization began to dawn on the faces of the Mourning Son goons, they began to frantically shake their heads, pleading with him to stop. As the cracks grew larger and larger, they all began to realize that the young man they'd planned to take down was ready to send them all crashing from the building they were in. They all closed their eyes as he brought down his Hammer, ready for the end to come.

Only, it didn't. The floor, however, did.

"Got you!" Echo laughed, a massive smile splitting his face from ear to ear. "Like I was going to throw you from the building! Come on, I'm not a killer, just a joker!" None of the men made a move to attack him; they were exhausted and scared after what had just happened to him. _Huh, now that wasn't so bad of a workout._ He bent forward and placed his hands on the surface of the Spike, letting out a slow, deep breath. _Don't even think it took that long. Should be able to make it back before Riff notices I'm gone._ The shiny surface of the Spike reflected his frown. _Though, I wonder what happened to that-_

**_*CLICK*_**

_-woman._ Slowly standing up straight, Echo turned around to see the woman from before holding a rifle to his head. Though he hadn't gotten a good look at her before, it was pretty clear to him that she was wearing different clothes than she had been. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail that fell to her back and her eyes had black mascara around them. She wore a long, crimson coat that hung to her knees and black high-heeled boots. Over her face was a black veil, the kind worn at a funeral. Staring down the barrel of her weapon, Echo couldn't help but gulp in fear. _It's __**always**__ the pretty ones…_ He looked her in the eye and tried to put on a confident face. "So, I'm guessing you're…"

"The name's Madeline Mourning." she snapped. "I am the leader of the Mourning Sons, those men that you've been beating on for the past few minutes. And let me just say, I don't appreciate that."

Echo nodded in understanding. "So, they're your sons… Wait, they all look your age." Ignoring the fact that she had a gun to his head, he turned to look at one of them, scrunching his eyes to see them better. "Yeah, you all look about the same age… So, that either means that they're not really your sons or you just look really good for your age." He turned back to face her smiling, though it quickly faded as she pressed the barrel of the rifle to his head. "Okay, just a joke… and a pretty bad one, I'll admit."

"Anyone is able to be one of my children, so long as they obey my words. I can't believe a child like you managed to beat them all. This was supposed to be a simple operation: lure in some fool with a hero-complex and shake them down for whatever they had. Then you had to go and ruin it. I must admit, you do have some interesting skills." She smiled as her finger danced along the trigger. "Unfortunately, I doubt you'll make for a good member of my gang. Any last words before I start planning where to dump your body?"

He thought about it for a second. "Yeah. I've got two things to say. One: you are seriously way too hot to be in the organized crime thing. Two," he ignored the blush that had come over her face and looked past her, "nice timing, Riff."

Before she could ask any questions or pull the trigger, a sudden sharp chord from a guitar rung out, making her cover her ears in pain. "Ah, you know the party doesn't start until I show up." Riff said. He wore his cowboy hat at an angle so it covered his right eye, though it didn't hide his tired expression. His body was covered by a black duster, though an amber shirt could be seen beneath it. He walked towards Mourning, his black and orange guitar in his hands. "So, you're Miss Mourning, huh? Low-ranking crime boss that's chasing Roman Torchwick's coattails?"

At Riff's words, the woman's eyes became filled with anger. "Yes…" she growled. Looking up, however, the fury in her eyes was replaced by amazement. "…Wait, aren't you Riff Downbeat?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder. "The famous Huntsman and musician?" He nodded, a grimace coming over his face. He knew where this was going, and he didn't like it.

"Can I have your autograph?" she begged, her eyes lighting up like a schoolgirl's.

Riff and Echo both facepalmed, though Riff begrudgingly obliged, reaching into his hat and pulling out a signed photo of himself. "Here…" he muttered, handing it to her. She snatched from his hands and looked at it in wonder. "You can hang it on your cell wall." He played a few quick notes on his guitar, each of them enhanced by his own Semblance, and she fell to the ground, still clutching the photo. "…I hate it when this happens." he remarked. "I can't even go to a fight without someone recognizing me and having this happen. Which reminds me…" He reached into his hat and pulled out a small, black flipbook and a pencil. "Let's see… Fifteen points for Eigil…" he muttered, ignoring his younger brother's use of his real name. "And since I took the leader, that's a whopping fifty going to yours truly." Smirking, he placed the book back in his hat and looked at his brother. "Can't believe you got taken so easily." he chuckled

"You know, she only got me because I was dealing with them." Echo countered. He pointed at the thirteen men that were still lying on the ground. "If it wasn't for them, I could've had her."

Still smirking, Riff took off his hat and lightly smacked his younger brother on the back of the head with it. "Could've, would've, and should've, but didn't. In the end, the only thing that matters is what you did and didn't do kiddo." Turning around, he motioned for his brother to follow him. "Now come on. I didn't take a vacation from Beacon to come pick you up just so you could miss the train. I've already contacted the authorities; they'll be here to pick these punks up."

Frowning, Echo followed, stepping over the figure of Miss Mourning. "Yeah, yeah… Whatever you say, Royd."

Even from outside the abandoned building, one could hear the sound of Riff's hat making contact with Echo's head.

* * *

**_And that's the 2nd Prologue for ZERO. I really enjoyed writing Echo, or Eigil, depending on your preference, as I just got to cut loose and have fun with the character. Hopefully that came through with some of his dialogue. Also, I'm really hoping that an Air Dust Crystal can work like that... Or that they even exist in the RWBY-verse..._**

**_Besides that, I'd like to say one thing: this story might not be updated for a while. I'm currently in the process of moving and there is no Internet in the new place, so... could be a while before I'm able to update this. Sorry to those of you who might have been looking forwards to more of this._**

**_Getting off of bad news, I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read this and wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving in advance. If you'd be so kind as to leave a review, it would be very much appreciated. Regardless of whether you do or do not, I hope you all have a wonderful day._**


	3. Prologue 3: A Divided Mind

**Prologue 3: A Divided Mind**

"Raimund, are you ready?" the man asked, putting his right hand to the earpiece he wore. He stood in the middle of a large control room, with machines of various functions lining the walls and technicians going between them. He wore a simple gray suit and his dark blonde hair was turning gray from both age and stress. After a moment of receiving no response, he asked again. "Raimund, are you ready? Please respond."

There was a loud burst of static that forced all the men and women to cover their ears, save the man who merely sighed. "S-sorry…" a slightly timid voice came in from over the speakers in the room. "I-I was just doing a bit of daydreaming, and I don't suppose I heard what you said… Sorry Father…" There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. "But yes Father, I am ready." The person now seemed slightly more confident, a fact which pleased the man in gray.

"Good, because I don't want you to slack off during this exercise. This might be just a simple training session, but with what you're training with, the slightest bit of hesitation could prove disastrous." He looked towards one of his technicians, who gave him a quick nod saying that they were ready to begin the exercise. "Now, in thirty seconds, the exercise will begin. Good luck, son."

* * *

"Thanks Father." A young man took his hand away from his ear as the call ended and took a deep breath, readying himself for what was coming his way. He wore a black, long-sleeved shirt beneath a dark gray, metal breastplate with an odd decoration in the center: a digital monitor that had a symbol of a black triangle pointing upwards on a blue background. The screen gave off small amounts of light, though not enough to illuminate an area. On both of his arms he wore odd, diamond-shaped weapons that had elongated tips that resembled blades. Fitting, since they actually were blades. The weapons had more bulk towards the end opposite the point, though there was very little weight to them. They were known as the Arms of Jericho. Their dark gray metal dully shined in the lights of the arena the young man stood in. Around his waist he wore dull white pair of pants with a black belt around them and a pair of black boots. On the back of his breastplate was an engraving of two lines coiling around each other, one black and the other white, until they reached their zenith and merged into a circle of gray.

The arena he stood in was stark white, with doors that would slide open to reveal his opponents on each of the six walls. The floor was polished to the point that he could see his reflection in it and above the walls were a series of glass windows that led to booths where people, namely his father and his father's technicians, would be able to keep an eye on him during the training exercise.

A loud klaxon sounded the beginning of the exercise as the door in front of him opened, revealing a small group of AK-130 Droids, numbering in at about ten. "Let's do this! Jericho system, activate!" Raimund commanded as a set of wires shot out from either side of his breastplate and connected themselves to a small area between the objects on his forearms and his forearms. There was a slight clicking noise as the wires embedded themselves in their receivers, followed by the sound of energy beginning to surge through the wires and into the weapons on his arms.

"**JERICHO SYSTEM: ONLINE."** an electronic voice declared. Lowering himself into an offensive stance, Raimund prepared himself for the onslaught that was coming his way.

* * *

"Sir," one of the technicians, a young man with dark red hair that fell in a shaggy mess that almost completely obscured his eyes said, walking up to the man in gray, "my name is Marcus Reinhart. I must say that it is… an absolute honor to be working with you, Mr. Fürst." The young man eagerly extended his hand to the older man, who slowly accepted it. "I'm one of the people who designed this training exercise, so I was wondering if you would have any questions for me during it."

Fürst nodded in understanding. "That is quite kind of you, Mr. Rein-"

"Please, call me Marcus!" the young man insisted, incidentally cutting off his boss. "…Sorry for cutting you off…" He smiled nervously before motioning for Fürst to continue.

Fürst, however, did not seemed to upset by the interruption. "Very well: Marcus it is. Now, I'm sure that you are aware of the importance of this exercise, correct?" Marcus nodded slowly. "Good, so you know that my soon has been accepted to Beacon Academy in order to further his training as a Huntsman. And you must also know that, being his father, I had my worries as to whether or not he would be able to handle the strain of the Academy."

Again, Marcus slowly nodded. "That's completely understandable, sir. If I was a father, I'd be thinking the exact same things." Turning to one of the monitors that showcased the exercise, he let out a low whistle of surprise. "Though, if I might say, you might not have anything to worry about. Looks like he can take care of himself pretty well."

Viktor Fürst said nothing, but simply stared at the screen where his son was fighting. _So far, so good. The Jericho System is doing exactly what it was designed to do. _Closing his eyes, he sent out a quick prayer. _Elizabeth, give our son the strength he needs…_

* * *

"Get back!" Raimund shouted as he kicked one of the combat droids off of his blades, known as the Swords of Jericho, before spinning around and effortlessly slicing off the head of another that had gotten close to him. So far, the AK-130's had been attacking strategically, surrounding their opponent before going in for the attack. As another one ran towards him, Raimund jumped back. "Jericho System: Switch to Cannons!" he ordered.

Immediately the Jericho System responded: the Swords of Jericho split in half and folded flat against the rest of the Arms before the entire weapon spun around, allowing the bottom sides of the diamonds to point outwards. The bottoms opened slightly, revealing three barrels in each of the hidden compartments. Without a moment's hesitation, Raimund fired off a salvo of bullets, all of them impacting hard on the body of the AK-130 and tearing it to pieces from the sheer force of impact. The Jericho Cannons, as they were called, did not fire normal bullets: it fired a specially made round that did very little, if any, piercing damage but had more than enough power to break through metal by sheer force and could easily crack bone.

Realizing the new threat, the AK-130's all switched their weaponry to long-ranged guns, forming a firing line directly in front of Raimund. Panting lightly, he stared down the barrels of their weapons as he slowly formulated a plan in his head. "Jericho System: Switch to Shields!"

Again, the System did as it was commanded: the Cannons retracted into the bracers. This time, however, the weapons did not rotate. Rather, they expanded as hidden panels emerged from them and turned the weapons into something more akin to a pair of large, heptagonal shields. Again, fitting, as they were just that. Raimund brought them together as the droids opened fire, their rounds making impact but not nearly enough to tear through the metal of the Walls of Jericho.

As the fire died down, he immediately sprung into action, charging at the droids as he reared his right fist back. Part of the Wall on that arm folded down to cover his hand as he delivered a punch to the nearest machine, his fist going straight through the metal. Using it and his remaining shield as protection from the onslaught of fire, he kicked it forwards and into the remaining units as he changed back to the Swords of Jericho. As the machines struggled to stand, he ran through all of them, hacking his way through each of them until they remained as nothing but sparking pieces of metal on the ground.

"Round 1: Complete!" a voice announced over the intercom. "Round 2 will commence in 30 seconds."

* * *

Marcus had to close his gaping mouth before turning to his boss. "Was that- that was the actual Jericho System in effect, wasn't it?!" he asked excitedly. When Viktor merely nodded, the young technician had to suppress his desire to scream like an overly-energetic schoolgirl. "I've seen the specs on it and I've known that it's been in development for quite some time now, but I'd never thought I'd be able to see it with my own eyes."

"Really now?" Viktor asked, an amused smile on his face. "Well then, tell me what you thought of it. As it is the magnum opus of Fürst Technologies, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it."

"Absolutely incredible! I think it's the first voice-controlled weapon that I've actually seen. Its sheer power was unbelievable! And the amount of potential it could have in the hands of an experienced user… Incredible! Tell me: when do we plan on selling it to the military?"

"We don't." Viktor replied simply, causing the technician to raise an eyebrow in confusion. "The Jericho System was developed as a weapon for my son and my son only. I had it designed as a way to enhance his physical prowess while also increasing his capabilities in a combat situation. I have no plans, nor will I ever, on having it become mass produced and sold to the military."

Marcus chewed on the bottom of his lip, though he slowly nodded in understanding. "I suppose you have your reasons, so I won't question them. Besides, the company does sell more than enough technological weaponry and devices than it needs to in order to stay afloat. From what I've read, we've had a successful fiscal year and we're looking to have another one coming up. Am I right?"

The man in gray nodded once. "Exactly right." Viktor turned his attention back to the screen as the second round began.

* * *

With the second round came another batch of AK-130's, this time double the size of the previous. Without wasting a moment, Raimund immediately went on the offensive. "Jericho System: Switch to Cannons!" As the weapons switched the appropriate mode, Raimund pointed both arms at the robots as they rushed from the doorway and unleashed fury onto them. The aftermath of the Jericho Cannons' specialized bullets could only be considered a mechanical bloodbath as broken machines sparked on the ground in front of the door.

"Round 2: Complete! Round 3 will commence in 30 seconds."

Panting, Raimund took the time to kneel down and collect his thoughts. Even though he had trained extensively with the System in the past few months, using it still put a strain on his body. Looking down towards his breastplate, he noted with satisfaction that the light on the screen was still blue, indicating that the device was still properly functioning. _I might just be able to-_

"_**To what? To keep me held in here?"**_

Raimund's blood froze as a familiar voice filled his head. The world turned black as a figure appeared before him, a malevolent aura surrounding them and giving them a faint outline that made it possible for them to be seen. _**"That's what you were thinking, wasn't it? That you'll be able to keep me under control this time?" **_The figure let out a chilling laugh. _**"Well, we'll just see about that. By the way: heads up."**_

As the world came back into focus, Raimund could barely react as a metallic fist made solid contact with his face, sending him reeling backwards and crashing into the floor. As he slowly stood up, noting the blood that was trickling from a cut that had formed above his right eye, he saw a new mechanical opponent had arrived.

It was made from the same black and red metal as the AK-130's, but it was different in every way imaginable. Its body was much bulkier and seemed to be heavily armored. Its height was equal to two AK's stacked on top of each other and it moved with slow, determined steps. It stared down at Raimund with a single red eye as it clenched its large, metal fists and prepared itself for combat.

* * *

"That's the AK-130B! I thought they weren't going to be ready for combat for months!" Marcus exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the screen. "Is this a prototype or an actual, complete model?"

"Prototype; the real models will not be ready until the next quarter." Viktor replied simply. "I specifically ordered it to be placed into the training exercises myself. This way, not only do I test my son and the Jericho System, but I can also see the strengths and weaknesses of the next combat droid we shall be producing." A frown suddenly creased his face. "Marcus… if you were working on the training exercises as you claimed, wouldn't you have already known about this?"

Marcus immediately froze up, before letting out a nervous chuckle and scratching the back of his head. "W-well… I did do a lot of work on designing the exercise, but it was really for just the first two rounds… It's a bit embarrassing, but I have no idea how the next four will play out. F-forgive me if I seem a bit hopeless. I tend to get that a lot."

Viktor scrutinized the young man for a moment before giving him a smile. "No reason to worry; everyone makes mistakes or can seem hopeless at times. Tell me: do you not think our ancestors felt the same way before they first harnessed the power of Dust? The Grimm were poised to destroy humanity, and yet we were able to overcome our species' greatest threat." Placing a hand on the young man's shoulders, he looked him in the eyes as best he could, considering his red hair covered them almost completely. "I had the same thoughts of being hopeless when I was your age, and look how I turned out. Marcus, you remind me a lot of myself, so don't sell yourself short; you have a bright future ahead of you, I'm sure."

Marcus looked away for a moment. "T-thank you sir…" he muttered. Turning his attention back to the screen, he and his employer both watched in suspense as Raimund Fürst fought off the brutal onslaught of the AK-130B.

* * *

Raimund was struggling, and anyone with eyes would be able to tell that much. His right eye had blood in it, obstructing his vision, though he'd managed to heal the cut through his Aura. The new machine that he was fighting was faster than it appeared to be, always moving in to deliver a powerful blow before he could react. As he was sent reeling from another heavy blow, he could feel the strain that was being placed on his body.

"_**You know, there's a way that you could beat this guy real easy. Just a few magic words, and-"**_

"Like hell I'll do that!" Raimund shouted before charging the machine. "Jericho System: Left Arm to Sword, right Arm to Shield!" he commanded. As the weapons did as he ordered, the mechanical fist of the robot crashed down towards him. Raising his shield, he was knocked back by the sheer power of the blow. As he struggled under the pressure that was being exerted on him, he saw from the corner of his eye that the other fist was coming his way. _Perfect._

Just as the second fist was about to crush him, he jumped back and out of the way. "Jericho System: Right arm to Sword! Engage Cannons!" The right Jericho Arm flipped around into its bladed form as the back of both Arms opened up, revealing the Cannons. "Fire!" he shouted. Both sets of Jericho Cannons unleashed their payloads, sending him rocketing forwards with both Swords crossed in front of him. The 130B, which had been thrown off balance from missing its attack, could only watch as Raimund flew straight past its arms and delivered two quick slices. As the pieces of metal fell to the ground, Raimund quickly turned around and jumped upwards at the massive machine, firing off shots from the Cannons in order to gain extra height. "Take this!" he shouted, bringing both Swords down together as he fell onto the machine. The blades tore through the metal, resulting in an ear-piercing shriek, as he slowly cut straight down.

Landing on the ground, Raimund struggled to stay standing as the physical toll on his body began to build up. "Three up, three down… I can handle this." Taking a quick glance down at the screen on his chest, his heartbeat began to increase as he saw the blue light had begun to dim slightly. _At least I hope I can…_ Swallowing in fear, he allowed his body to rest as the countdown to the next round began.

"_**So, you're going to be stubborn about this, are you?"**_ the voice asked, directly in his right ear. Raimund shifted a glance to where the voice was coming from, only to see nothing was there. _**"Hah, you think you can actually see me… It's weakening, you know. If you keep it up like you are, well… I get to play."**_

_Shut up and go away!_ He clenched his fists in anger as the voice let out a harsh laugh, slowly fading away into nothingness. "I can do this… I _will_ beat this!" he said through clenched teeth as the fourth round began and a pair of the 130B's marched out of the door, flanked by six normal droids. _…I think I can beat this._

* * *

"Sir, the Jericho System's Restrictor is beginning to weaken!" one of the technicians, a young woman, suddenly reported without looking away from her console. "It's decreased by 20% already and seems to be decreasing further."

An alarm immediately went off in Viktor's head. "What is the rate? How long will the Restrictor last?" he demanded, urgency plainly heard in his voice.

"I-I'm not sure. The rate at which its power is decreasing is fluctuating. If I had to wager a guess, the subject should be able to make it through all six rounds, though just barely." she reported.

Viktor was about to speak, only to sigh and nod his head instead. "Very good. Tell me immediately if the Restrictor begins to go critical. We cannot afford for it to fail!"

The technician didn't respond, but instead went back to monitoring the progress of the exercise. Marcus, however, just looked between the woman and Viktor, bewildered by what they were talking about. "Sir, what's the Restrictor and why is it so important that it doesn't fail on us?" A few of the technicians in the room looked at him, surprised and frightened, which only added to the young man's confusion. "…Did I say something wrong?"

"You must be new…" Viktor sighed, placing his head in the palm of his hand. "If you weren't, you would know about this by now, but… Viktor, are you aware of Aura's possible negative effects on the human mind?"

Marcus paused for a moment, cupping his chin with a hand. "If I recall correctly, the proper terminology for that is Aura Corruption. It's not much more than a theory, but it states that since the physical body, the mental state, and the soul must be in harmony to be efficient, any single one of these elements could throw all of the others out of whack if it was too strong or weak. Aura, as the theory states, could potentially be the most threatening of these three, due to being the pure manifestation of the soul. The body is naturally able to handle Aura, though it can cause some harsh side effects, but the mind is much more susceptible. That's why when building up your Aura, you also have to be focused." Looking up towards Viktor, he tilted his head. "Pretty much, if you have too much Aura and your mind is strong enough to handle it, you could have serious issues. That's the gist of it, right?"

Viktor nodded sagely. "Sadly, this is true and it is more than a theory." A somber look came over the man's face. "When my son was born, there were… complications. For several minutes, there was no oxygen going to his brain. Many of the doctors feared that he would be brain-dead or wouldn't survive. Eventually, he pulled through." Viktor's eyes closed as painful memories flooded from his mind. "…My wife was not so fortunate. The strain his birth put on her was too much…"

"I'm so sorry, sir…" Marcus muttered, looking down.

Viktor shook his head. "Do not be. I love my son with the same amount of love his mother would, in addition to my own. Every day I see him, I can see her standing next to him, smiling as he works to make us both proud." A grim look came over his face as he continued speaking. "However, the tragedy of my wife's death and my son's near-death had not ended, not entirely. The lack of oxygen his brain received damaged it. He learned slower than most children and it took him several years to be able to speak fluently without pauses. Normally, this would not be a problem, as it would only be a minor hindrance in his shining future."

"But…?" Marcus dug, knowing that there had to be something more to this story.

"But my son is anything but normal. Early on, we discovered that his Aura was exceedingly high for a child of his age. It rivaled that of many full grown men and women and steadily it grew. I had trainers come in from all over the world to teach him how to control it, but…"

A look of comprehension dawned on Marcus. "His brain had been damaged to the point he wasn't able to control it, hadn't it?" He scratched his chin as a heavy tension filled the space between the two of them. "H-how bad was it?"

Viktor took in a deep breath. "Bad. Very, very bad. His Aura rose to the point where Aura Corruption took hold, damaging his already weakened mind. A split-personality developed, one that seemed to be able to control the Aura with ease but one that was also malevolent. It wanted nothing more than to cause destruction and hurt people. I could not allow that to happen. Thus, I built the Aura Restrictor."

"A-Aura Restrictor?" Marcus stuttered. "That's- that's unheard of! How can you restrict someone's very soul?!"

Viktor shook his head. "A restrictor only in name, young man. The AR unit acts as a leech, siphoning off excess Aura so that it becomes manageable for Raimund. However, there is one major flaw: during the course of battle, the amount of Aura that he has depletes with every strike he takes. As the AR unit feeds off of Aura, it begins to grow weaker and weaker as it depletes. An automatic shutoff was built into it to ensure that it did not completely drain my son of Aura, but should it shut off…" the thought was left hanging in the air, a threat as to what may come.

Trying to suppress a snide grin, Marcus slowly turned and walked away from the man he called his boss. "How very interesting… And here I thought this would be a boring trip." he whispered to himself as he quietly stole out of the room, digging something out of his coat pockets. "Now, time for the games to begin."

* * *

Down in the arena, Raimund was thanking God that the fifth round only consisted of a massive wave of AK-130's and nothing larger or more intimidating. He kept his distance from the onslaught of machines, firing off shots from his left Arm while the right Arms served as a shield. However, he was still having trouble, though not with the robots. A dark figure constantly appeared in the middle of the horde of machines, grinning maliciously and laughing as it flickered in and out of existence. No matter where Raimund would turn, the figure would always seem to appear somewhere, and if he shot at it, it would vanish before the bullets would connect with it.

As he finished destroying another group of AK-130's with a series of well-placed shots, he risked a glance down at the screen on his chest. The blue had dimmed considerably and it would occasionally flash red, like a warning. _I'm so close… I can do this!_ With a cry, he switched both Arms to Swords and dove into the crowd, his dark gray blades shining as they tore through the machines. The figure began to appear in his vision, taunting him.

"_**You'll still fail! You need me!"**_ the figure shouted as one of his blades cut through it.

"_**You're nothing but a child who's afraid of his own shadow!"**_ it taunted as he stabbed through it and another robot.

"_**I will get out! It's inevitable!"**_

"_**Stop trying to hide from the truth!"**_

"_**I am more powerful than you could ever hope to be!"**_

"_**Give up and LET ME OUT!"**_

"Shut the hell up!" Raimund screamed as he brought both blades down on the figure. It vanished, revealing the droid it had been obscuring. The machine split in half and collapsed to the ground, as did Raimund. His mind was racing and there was a burning sensation at the back of his neck. The flashes of red on his chest were becoming more and more frequent. "I can't stay weak… I have to keep moving…"

"Round 5: Complete! Final Round begins in 1 minute!"

* * *

"Sir, the AR is barely holding at 45%! At this rate, another strong attack from an opponent could send it into critical!"

A grimace came over Viktor's face as he thought of what he should do. "…I promised my son I would trust him. We won't do anything yet, but if it falls below 40, stop the exercise immediately and get the emergency teams out there!" Letting out a puff of air, he turned to see Marcus, only to see the young man had vanished. "And where the hell is Marcus?" he demanded. He didn't see him anywhere in the room, which meant that he wasn't doing his job. While he should have been doing it during this entire exercise, Viktor was willing to forgive the eager young man due to how much he was reminded of himself, but now, he was completely shirking his duties.

"Marcus?" one of the technicians questioned, looking up from their monitors. "Sir, there is no one named Marcus who was assigned to this team. I should know, since I personally assembled the technicians for this exercise. I never saw a Marcus nor did I assign him any role."

Viktor stared at the man, his confusion slowly turning into a mixture of fear and anger. "Call security and tell them we have an intruder! I want this 'Marcus' in front of me by the time the day is over, am I clear!" he barked, sending all of the technicians into a flurry. Turning his attention back to the screen, he began to breathe heavily as the final round of the exercise began. _Elizabeth, watch over our son…_

* * *

As the final door opened, signaling the start of the final trial, Raimund couldn't help but feel worried. He knew that he was in massive danger, and so were the people monitoring this fight. The burning sensation at the back of his neck had intensified, to the point that it actually felt like he was being burned back there. _Almost there… Almost strong enough… I don't need his power!_ Turning his eyes to the door, he prepared himself for the final combatants.

As a large mechanical leg stepped from the door, he could feel his heart sink.

Not one, but _two_ Spider Droids emerged from the door, their black and red bodies shining in the fluorescent lights of the arena. Upon seeing him, they both aimed all of their cannons at him, blue energy charging up in the barrels as they prepared to fire. As he watched, the figure appeared in front of both of them, silhouetted by the light they were giving off.

"_**Now, if I were you, I'd run. Now."**_

With that, they both fired.

* * *

"Who the hell sent Spider Droids down there?! I never authorized their use!" Viktor Fürst was in a rage. Not only had his security been breached, his son in danger, and he had divulged secret information to an unknown individual, but now two of the most dangerous weapons his company produced were down there with his son and, from what he'd learned, the Restrictor had hit 34%. "Shut down the Droids and get emergency teams down there stat!"

One of the technicians suddenly screamed as their console exploded in a shower of sparks and fire. Consoles all around the room did the same, injuring their users. A sudden emergency siren began to sound in the room as the blast doors of the room lowered, trapping them all in there. As the metal shutters in front of the windows began to descend, Viktor ran over to them and pounded furiously on them, shouting for his son to get out of there.

The last thing he saw before the shutters closed and the room was plunged into darkness was a pool of black energy gathering at his son's feet.

* * *

"Damn it!" Raimund shouted as yet another blast from the Spider Droids' cannons hit home, knocking him further back. The light on his chest was now flashing red nonstop, to the point where the blue had all but disappeared. His neck was on fire and he could feel the world begin to slip away from him. Desperately, he reached up to his earpiece. "Father, call off the Droids! We have to end the session!"

"I'm sorry," an unfamiliar voice sounded from the earpiece, "but your father is currently indisposed, as are all of his technicians." There was a cackle as the sound of someone screaming could be heard in the distance. "Now, why don't you be a good boy and show me just what you can do. It was such a chore to get those two Spider Droids down there, and I would hate to see all of my efforts go to waste." There was an abrupt burst of static as the connection was closed, leaving Raimund on his own.

"FATHER!" he screamed, tears staining his eyes from the pain, exhaustion, and fear that he was feeling. Looking down, his fear increased as he saw a black mass of energy begin to lap at his feet. _No! It can't be failing, not now!_ Looking up, he barely had enough time to bring up the shields as the Spider Droids, having combined their cannons into a much larger one, both fired a shot of pure energy at him. He screamed as he was blasted backwards, the Shields only slightly decreasing the pain he felt from the attacks. As he was suddenly slammed against the far wall, a sound he dreaded to hear suddenly rang out.

"**AURA RESTRICTOR CRITICAL. SHUTTING DOWN TO AVOID DAMAGE."**

As his world faded to black, Raimund could hear a dark laugh escaping his own lips.

* * *

The two Spider Droids watched as their target was slammed into the wall by the force of the energy blasts, crashing through it as he screamed. Clouds of dust and debris floated up from the wreckage, obscuring the young man from the sight of the machines. The two of them began to march towards the rubble when a dark laugh began to come from the dust. As their AI tried to process the situation, a blast of dark energy shot out and struck them, knocking them both back.

"Time to PLAY!"

With a roar, a black blur shot out of the dust, a pair of dark blades shining in the light. The Droids attempted to keep up with the speed of the figure, but every time they tried to get a lock on them, it vanished. "I'LL CUT YOU TO RIBBONS!" With a scream the figure suddenly fell from the sky, the blades it wielded flashing in the light as it came down on one of the Spider Droids. There was a moment where nothing happened before the mech exploded. "One down, one to go!" the figure laughed as it stepped from the wreckage.

It was Raimund Fürst and it was not Raimund Fürst. The body was the same, but his entire demeanor had changed to something much more sinister. A black Aura surrounded his entire body, twisting and warping as it seemed to grow larger as the seconds passed. The screen on his chest had changed: the background was a deep red and the triangle, now white, had turned upside down. He smiled madly as he stared down the last enemy.

"Game on!" he shouted, throwing himself at the machine. It barely had time to react as he stabbed deeply into its body with one of his blades. "Left Arm to Cannons!" Bringing the arm back, he punched through the metal of the Droid's body. "Chew on this, you metal bastard!" he screamed as he fired shot after shot into the robot's body. The machine crumpled to the ground, barely functioning as sparks shot from the holes in its body. Jumping to the top of its head, Raimund smiled as his right Arm switched to its Shield Mode. "Game over." With a roar, he punched straight down into its skull, his metal-covered fist easily piercing through the metal. As his hand grasped something within the machine, he pulled it out and threw the core of the Droid onto the ground. The Spider Droid shuddered once before falling to the ground, dead.

Raimund let out a savage howl as he admired his handiwork, though the feeling of satisfaction was cut short after he felt the familiar sensation of a tranquilizer being shot into his neck. Turning around, he saw his father's emergency team had arrived, one of the men being responsible for the dark sticking from his neck. Though he tried to move towards them, he barely made it a few feet before collapsing to the ground.

As the darkness faded from his mind, he let out a weak cry. "Father…" he muttered before losing consciousness.

* * *

That had been eight months ago, and the story had been all over the news. Viktor Fürst, the head of Fürst Technologies, had been kidnapped by a mysterious individual. No demands had been made regarding his release, nor had any information of his whereabouts been obtained. The stock of Fürst Technologies collapsed, and within weeks, the company was bankrupt. Another company bought the designs for the AK-130's and Spider Droids, as well as all the new robots the company had planned to release.

Raimund reflected on all of this as he sat on the train that would take him to the airship that would take him to his final destination, Beacon. _I'll train. I'll get stronger. And once I'm strong enough, I'll hunt down the bastard who ruined my life, who kidnapped my father, and who destroyed his legacy, and end him._

"Hey, are these seats taken?"

Raimund was shocked out of his thoughts by the appearance of two individuals: one was a large young man of about his age who seemed to have a permanent grin on his face while the other was a bit older and seemed to want nothing more than to go to sleep. "Um… no, they're not." he answered quietly. As the two individuals sat down, Raimund shuffled over to the side. The older of the two mentioned something about the younger falling behind in 'points' before taking the hat he wore off of his head and placing it over his face. Within seconds, one could tell he was asleep.

"So, you going to Beacon?" the other person asked, turning to look at Raimund. "I mean, you've got that armor on and this train's heading for the airship port. I'm heading there myself." Without waiting for an answer, he stuck his hand out to Raimund. "The name's Echoing Drumbeat, but you can just call me Echo."

Raimund looked at the hand before looking back at Echo. Seeing the harmless look on his face, the young Fürst felt that he could trust this person. "I doubt that's your real name, but mine's Raimund. Raimund Fürst."

The sleeper suddenly startled awake. "Fürst? As in Fürst Technologies?" he asked, taking his hat off of his face. When Raimund jumped back in surprise, he offered an apologetic look. "Sorry… The name's Riff Downbeat. Maybe you've heard of me?"

"Yeah, famous guitarist, singer, and Huntsman. Leader of Team RAZR, one of the most successful teams in Beacon history. And you're only in your third year." Raimund smiled as he saw the surprised look come over Riff's face. "I did my research on the Academy before I decided to come here. Anyways, yeah, I'm that Fürst. Why do you ask?"

"I was one of the people who looked into the disappearance of your father. I'm really sorry about what happened, and I feel terrible that I couldn't do more to find him."

Echo shook his head. "No reason to be down about that, Riff. You did what you could, and no one blames you for it." He turned to look at Raimund. "…You don't blame him, do you?" he asked, a weak smile on his face.

Raimund shook his head. "I blame no one but the man who kidnapped my father. So, when I get to Beacon, I'll get strong enough until I can find him, and I'll make him pay for what he did."

Riff regarded the young man for a minute before nodding. "And my little brother Eigil and I will be more than happy to help you with your goal. Isn't that right, Eigil?"

Echo's left eye was twitching as he turned to his brother. "Yes, that's exactly right, _ROYD_!" He let out a yelp of pain as Riff/Royd slapped him on the back of his head with his hat. The two stared each other down before a verbal war began between them.

As the two brothers began to fight over each other's use of their real names, Raimund just shook his head and sat back in his seat. He couldn't help but smile at how close the two were. Settling himself back into his seat, he let his eyes close, the days that he'd gone without sleep finally catching up to him.

For the first time in a long time, it seemed like things might be okay.

* * *

**_Ah, it's good to have Internet again..._**

**_That being said, hopefully you all can accept the ideas and concepts I threw in with this Prologue. It makes sense to me, though... I suppose that's not saying much, is it? Well, let me try to explain a bit better:_**

**_From what I've seen, it seems that Aura is a very taxing power to use, as shown after Lie Ren's fight in the series. That is, assuming that's because Aura taxed him and not just because Nora scared the life out of him by having him ride on the back of an Ursa. Now, getting back on topic, Ren seems to be physically fit and does seem like a very smart person, which is why he's able to use his Aura combatively if my assumptions/ideas are correct. The same also goes for Pyrrha, while the opposite goes for Jaune: Yes, he can use it, but not effectively since he's not exactly the brightest bulb nor physically adept._**

**_Pretty much, this is all a bunch of guesses that I've made while I've watched the series put together in order to create a character device._**

**_Anyways, I'd like to thank all of you who waited for this to be uploaded. Moving can be a real bitch sometimes. To those of you who took the time to read this, I thank you. If you'd leave a review, or even just a question that you'd like to ask, it would be greatly appreciated. Regardless of whether you do or do not, I hope you have a wonderful day and had a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays and I wish you all a Happy New Year._**


	4. Prologue 4: A Bitter Pill

**Prologue 4: A Bitter Pill**

As the rain pattered against her window, a young woman sat in her bedroom, meticulously cleaning the parts of some weapon that lay disassembled in front of her. She inspected every inch of it, checking for any dirt or grime that could possibly be on the inner workings and removing it whenever she would find it, no matter how small a spot it could be.

Her bedroom could be considered a reflection of the attitude she carried towards the weapon. There was not a speck of dust that could be found anywhere on any surface, nor was there any signs of dirt, mud, or any substance staining the wooden floor. There was a pristine shine to everything in her room and the air smelled faintly of antiseptic. In other words: it was the cleanest room someone would likely ever walk into.

A sudden buzzing coming from the small intercom box on the wall next to her door caught her attention. Standing up, she walked over to it. "What?" she asked, not attempting to hide the irritation in her voice. "Do you even realize what time it is?"

"Well, you see-" the voice of a man started, only for her to quickly cut him off.

"Wait, I already know _why _you're here, so don't bother explaining. Someone's sick, right?" The man started to talk, only for her to cut him off yet again. "Of course someone is. Otherwise, you wouldn't bother coming out in this weather and risk catching a cold yourself. Tell whatever villager who was stupid enough to get ill this time that I shall be down at noon, and not a minute earlier. Am I understood? Good. Now leave, as I have important things to take care of." With that, she turned off the intercom, leaving a villager bewildered and slightly angry.

Going back to her workbench, she noticed with no small degree of satisfaction that her weapon was now spotless. Without a second thought, she quickly reassembled it and placed it in an airtight case that she could effortlessly carry around. With her work for the night accomplished, she snapped her fingers, causing the lights in her room to go out as she slipped out of her regular outfit and into a set of night clothes. Soon, she was beneath the blankets of her bed and sleep rapidly overtook her.

* * *

_A younger version of the girl slowly crept down the dark hallways of her house, towards a door that was cracked slightly. The flickering light of a candle could be seen coming from through the crack. A sudden blast of thunder caused her to jump and she moved faster than she had been towards the door, practically throwing herself through it when she reached it._

_Looking up from her book, a smile on her face, the sole occupant of the room, who as lying in her bed, looked at her. "Oh, Ophelia, did you have another nightmare?" the woman asked. Her hair was a lustrous gold and her eyes a shining blue. The young girl, Ophelia, just nodded. "Come to mommy, sweetie." Her mother opened her arms out and Ophelia rushed into them, jumping into the bed and immediately snuggling against her side. "You can sleep here for tonight. I won't mind it a bit." Putting the book down, her mother lay down next to her and stroked a few of her hairs from her face. "I promise that I'll always be here for you, to take away the nightmares."_

_Smiling, the young girl snuggled in closer to her mother and, as her mother blew out the candle she had been using to read, fell fast asleep._

* * *

Lying in her bed, the older Ophelia let out a deep sigh as she felt the moisture beginning to build in her eyes. "Always here for me, huh?" she mumbled, wiping the freshly formed tears from her eyes before getting out of her bed. "That was the one promise you just couldn't keep, wasn't it?" Shaking the dream from her head, she headed into her bathroom and performed her morning rituals before returning to her room. Reaching into the nightstand she kept by her bed, she took out a small pill bottle and took two pills from it, which she quickly swallowed. Ignoring the taste they left in her mouth, she placed it back where it belonged before picking up the clothes she had discarded the previous night and throwing them into a nearby hamper. With all of her routines finished, she went to her wardrobe and grabbed her usual outfit.

It was a strangely designed article of clothing, to say the least. Made entirely of a silver, flexible, and durable fabric, it was a form-fitting suit that covered her entire body. The material was strong enough that it could take a direct hit from an Ursa, but it also allowed her a free range of movement. Besides the normal silver, there were also a series of three violet lines that ran along the sides of the legs and the back of the arms, coming together over the left side of the chest and forming a circle. Enclosed within it was a violet heart with a small silver medical cross in it. There were a series of pouches located along the waist, each containing various types of field medicines and ammunition for her weapon. Slipping the outfit on, she flexed her fingers for a moment to see how well it fit before reaching up to the top of the wardrobe to take out the final piece of her ensemble.

It was a helmet, colored like her suit, with a purple visor that covered the face, though there was a metallic plate over where her mouth would be. On that plate were small holes that served a dual purpose. One was so that she could speak clearly through the helmet and the other was to provide an air filter that would remove any dangerous pathogens from the air she breathed. Sliding it onto her head, she heard an audible click as it snapped into the collar of her suit. Taking a quick glance at herself in the mirror, she frowned behind her visor. "You just _had_ to make this thing look like something from a sci-fi novel, didn't you dad?" Shaking her head, she grabbed the case that contained her weapon and made her way downstairs and out the door.

She had a job to do, whether she cared to do it or not.

* * *

It was a decent walk from where she lived, in the forests near the village, to the village proper. She rarely ventured from her home, unless it was to buy supplies or so she could do her job, so he arrival in the small, rainy hovel always drew a few curious glances, though those eyes would swiftly turn away as they felt an intense gaze staring them down from behind the visor.

She didn't ask for any directions to the house of her patient; the area was small enough to find wherever you needed to be and she'd grown up here. Coming to a stop in front of a somewhat nice looking house, she paused before rapping the back of her hand against the door three times. Almost immediately the door opened, revealing a very tired, and at the same time, relieved, woman. "Oh, Miss Goode! Thank heavens you came. My daughter, she's-"

Pushing past the woman without a word, Ophelia simply followed the sounds of coughing that were echoing through the house. Coming to a stop in front of a door, she glanced over at the woman, who merely nodded. Opening it and stepping inside, she took a quick survey of her surroundings. It was an average little girl's room, with walls painted bright pink, stuffed animals laying all over the floor, and posters depicting things from cute animals to majestic looking Huntsmen and Huntswomen. Lying in a bed, with a wet cloth over her forehead, was a young girl. Her cheeks were flushed and she would cough periodically. "That's her." the woman spoke up, worry plain in her voice. "Please, do some-"

"If I wasn't going to help her, I wouldn't be here, now would I?" Ophelia snapped, turning her head to look at the woman. "Now, please stand back while I examine the patient." Walking over to the young girl, she took out a thermometer and stuck it in her mouth as she began to take pulse. "Pulse is normal considering she's ill…" she muttered. Taking out the thermometer, she rolled her eyes as it confirmed the obvious: the girl had a fever. "Tell me, has the girl had any other symptoms other than coughing and fever?"

"Other… symptoms?"

Closing her eyes, the doctor let out a quiet, irritated growl. "Yes, other symptoms. Diarrhea, trouble keeping down food or liquids, vomiting- anything that could tell me what is wrong with your daughter. You know, the important things?" she snapped. Her body language clearly told that she was getting tired of things already.

The woman took a step back before answering, shaken by how harshly the words had been spoken. "Um… She's only had the fever and cough." Even though Ophelia's face was covered by the visor, the woman could tell that she was staring daggers at her. "Is there a problem?" she asked nervously.

"Oh, not at all." Ophelia said, her words dripping with sarcasm. "In fact, it was an absolute joy to come all the way from my home just to find out that my patient just has a MINOR COLD!" Standing up, she walked over to the woman and got stared her down. "Why is it that every single one of you people has to come crawling to me whenever someone's stumped their toe, or is losing a tooth, or is worried about a damn cough? Can you people not take care of yourselves?" Looking back at the girl, she snorted in disgust. "The fact that you needed me to come down here just to tell you what anyone with half a brain could have told you about your daughter is just astounding. Are you actually that incompetent when it comes to raising your own child?" Shaking her head, she brushed past the woman. "I'll still be expecting the usual amount deposited in my account by the end of the week." As she closed her hand on the door handle, she was stopped as she felt the eyes of someone on her back. Turning around, she frowned as she saw the woman standing before her. "What now? Did you get a tiny cut on your pinky?"

"I can't believe that your parents would have a daughter like you." The words struck Ophelia harder than a bullet and she visibly flinched. "Doctor Goode was a great man who helped treat everyone when that wave of sickness hit this town. Angela was the sweetest, nicest woman that anyone could have ever met. You would think that their daughter, their pride and joy, would respect their memories better than that."

Fists clenched, Ophelia had to bite her tongue to keep from letting loose a torrent of angry words. "Double." she finally managed to say. "From now on, I am charging _double_ for all of my visits." Seeing the expression on the woman's face, she felt her anger build. "All of you want to waste my time? Fine then. That just means that you'll have to use more of your money to get my time." Without saying anything further, she turned around and opened the door, slamming it behind her as she started up the road to her house.

She was grateful that her helmet covered her face. No one could see the tears that were pouring from her eyes.

* * *

Resting inside of her home, Ophelia stared at the picture of her parents that she kept at her bedside. They were in front of the house, just after it had been finished being built. Her father, a tall, gaunt man with messy brown hair, had his arm draped over her mother, who was holding a small bundle in her arms. _Not respecting your memories? I'm doing everything I can to do just that! Is it my fault that they got so used to you two helping them out with every little thing? _Placing the picture facedown on the nightstand, she turned onto her back and grabbed a bit of her hair. It was an oddity, considering neither of her parents had platinum hair. They'd always teased her about it, saying she'd gotten old before she was even born. Letting it slip from between her fingers she pulled the blankets over her and curled up.

_I can't stay here anymore. These people are as sick of me as I am of them. But where am I supposed to go?_ Sighing sadly, she closed her eyes as the pitter-patter of the rain lulled her to sleep.

* * *

"_And… that's it!" a man in a white coat said as he finished checking over the man who'd come in for a checkup. "You're healthy as ever, though if you're still feeling fatigued, I'd suggest taking a few days off of work. Ophelia and I will help with your family." The man thanked the doctor before leaving the room, rushing past the little, platinum-haired girl who stood by the door and was looking expectantly up at her father. "So, did you make sure to take notes?" her father asked, sticking his hands in the pockets of his coat as he walked over to her._

_She nodded and held up the notepad she'd been taking notes with. "I sure did! I can't wait until I get to treat my first patient! I'm going to be a great doctor, just like you daddy!"_

_Smiling at the enthusiasm in his daughter's voice, he ruffled her hair playfully. "I know you'll be a great doctor, but I think you'll actually be even better than I am." Seeing the surprise in her eyes, he chuckled softly. Just then, a small beep went off in his coat pocket and the atmosphere in the room immediately turned dark. Not even checking the message he'd just gotten, her father tore out of the room, with his daughter on his heels, and ran for his wife's bedroom._

"_Angela?" he called as he reached the door. Opening it, he let out a cry of shock as he saw her lying on the floor, not moving. He ran over to her and started to gently shake her. "Angel, honey, wake up! Please, wake up!" he pleaded, the urgency in his voice making it crack slightly. Finally, when she began to stir and made a few unintelligible noises, he let out a breath. "Thank God…" he whispered. Picking her up bridal-style, he laid her in her bed and stepped back._

_Angela Goode had changed from the shining, beautiful woman she had been. Her hair had dulled in color and her skin was a pasty white. Her breathing was shallow and barely audible, and her veins were dark against her pale flesh. Ophelia took a step away from her mother's room and dropped her notepad in fear. Before she'd even realized she was doing it, she was running towards her room, ignoring her father's cries._

_That night, she cried herself to sleep._

* * *

The sound of frantic hammering on the front door woke her from her sleep. "Who is it _now_?" she growled, wiping the tears from her eyes. Walking over to the intercom, she pressed the button. "What-"

"Grimm!" the scared screams of at least three people tore through the speaker, making her jump back in surprise. "A pack- no, a horde of Grimm just appeared and they're heading for the village! Please, you have to help us!" There was a quick scrabbling sound and suddenly a new voice spoke through the intercom. "If you want us to, we'll pay you double! Just help us!" It was the woman from earlier.

Taking a few breaths to help calm herself down, Ophelia quickly answered. "I don't charge for exterminating Grimm. Get everyone to safety. I'll be at the town in a few minutes." Turning from the intercom, she ran over to where she'd thrown her helmet and slipped it on before grabbing the case that contained her weapon and opening it.

Inside was an oddly designed sniper rifle, with a larger body than most had. It was done in a silver metal, though there were lines of violent running along the body. On the left side of the stock was her emblem and a series of buttons rested on the right side of the body, just below the thickest of the stripes. Picking it up, she checked the sights to make sure they were properly calibrated before taking a few large, silver bullets from the case and sticking them in a pouch on her right side. Next, she grabbed the clips that it used and attached five of them to the back of her waist. Finally, she used the violet strap that was connected to her rifle, known as Angel's Mercy, to sling it over her back. Readied and armed, she ran down the stairs to the front door and pushing through it, she headed for the village.

* * *

It hadn't taken her long to find her first group of Grimm. Comprised entirely of Beowolves, they were chasing a group of villagers as they ran for cover. Dropping into a crouch, she leveled the barrel at the monsters and pulled the trigger. As the bullet pierced the Beowolf's skull, she immediately changed targets and fired again, not hesitating for a second as she fired and took them all down. There had been six in all, and she'd ended them all within seconds. "Move!" she ordered, causing the villagers that had been watching her to start running again.

Taking off in a dead sprint, she had to jump back as a blur of black nearly slammed into her. Pressing a button on the side of Mercy, a hilt slid from the stock of the rifle. Grabbing it, she pulled out what appeared to be a scalpel used in surgeries, only the blade was longer and held characteristics of a combat knife. Gripping the hilt tightly, she slung Mercy over her back as she twisted out of the way of the Beowolf's claws. With a cry, she lunged forwards and slammed the blade of the knife into its eye, causing it to stiffen in shock. Kicking it away, she flicked what remained of its eye off of the blade before returning to protect the village. As she got closer to the center, the savage howls and roars of the Beowolves became more audible, as did the sounds of men fighting, and from the sounds they were making, they needed help.

Taking Mercy from her back, she pressed another button on its side. The barrel split vertically and folded back along the sides of the weapon as the body sprung forwards slightly, lengthening the weapon as a shorter barrel extended from within. Taking the knife she wielded, she snapped it onto a spot just beneath the barrel, creating a bayonet, and charged into the fray with her new combat rifle. The first few Grimm she saw went down before they could even notice her, the rapid fire of her weapon making up for how much weaker its shots were in this form.

Making her way over to where a group of men were fending off an approaching pack, she jumped over the creatures and fired downwards, twisting so that she landed facing them. As the final Beowolf fell, she turned her head to the nearest villager. "What's the situation?" she asked as she took a clip from her belt and loaded it into her rifle.

"It's an absolute horde of Beowolves." The man gripped his side where a claw had managed to nick him. "They came from out of nowhere and attacked the village. I've never seen so many."

"That's not all." Another man stepped forwards, limping slightly. "Before the attack, I saw something. It was a Beowolf, but it was bigger than any that I've seen before. It almost looked like it was ordering them around, but it ran off." He scratched his chin as he thought. "I swear I saw someone chasing after it, but I couldn't make out any details."

Letting the information sink in, Ophelia began to evaluate their odds. "Chances are that this is going to be difficult. These Beowolves, somehow, have the element of surprise and apparently there's an even larger one out there somewhere. We need to find a place that we can dig in and weather the storm, so to speak." A sudden growl caught her attention, though the Beowolf caught her bullets. "Go and get everyone you can find. Tell them to come with you to find a place secure enough and when you find it, defend it with your lives. Got it?"

"Yes, but what about you?"

Without answering, Ophelia took off, ready to do battle. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure the men had followed her orders, she was relieved to see that they had.

* * *

She slowly made her way to the village center, cutting down whatever Grimm got in her way and saving who she could while trying to keep them from grieving over those who were lost. By the time she'd made it to her destination, she was beginning to think there was no end to the monsters. _Mother, father: watch over me in this time of need! _A sudden roar and rush of movement caught her off guard and she felt herself slam into the side of a building. Staggering to her feet, she saw what had attacked her: A large Beowolf that was being flanked by two smaller ones. "I've never seen Grimm work like this before…" she muttered as she readied Mercy. The two smaller Grimm charged at her as soon as she raised her weapon, only to be cut down by a hail of bullets. Before she could attempt to shoot the third, however, something fell from above and tackled her to the ground. Twisting her head around, her heart sank as she saw another large Beowolf standing over her, its claws raised and ready to strike.

She closed her eyes as she waited for the finishing blow to come, tears coming from her eyes. _Please, just let this be quick!_

_*BANG*_

The report of a gunshot made her open her eyes, as did the sudden lack of weight she felt on her. Looking to her side, she saw that the monster that had pinned her was no more, lying dead on the ground with a hole in the side of its head. She turned around as another gunshot rang out, followed by a yelp of surprise from the remaining monster. Its head fell to the ground as her savior spun around to face her.

"They love to sneak up on you and take you from behind." the young man said. He wore an entirely blue outfit, though it was cut and torn in places, with a scarf wrapped around his neck. He fixed his pale blue eyes on her for a moment before turning to look at the surrounding area. "I really wish I knew what Scar was thinking…" He ran a hand through his dark brown hair that, oddly, spiked out towards the back and sighed.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" Ophelia asked, regaining her composure.

Turning to her, he shrugged. "Just a guy with a thing for hunting Beowolves, I suppose." His eyes suddenly shifted up and he quickly raised his weapon, an oddly designed sword with a bluish white blade and a handgun on the pommel that he wielded in an underhand style, and fired off three rounds. The sound of three bodies hitting the ground followed soon after. "You see what I mean about how they love to sneak up on you?" He was answered by her raising her rifle and unleashing a hail of bullets that were followed by a series of pained cries. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "A fast learner, eh? Good, you might not slow me down."

Before she could reply, a series of howls erupted from around them as Beowolves began to appear from everywhere, forming a ring of sharp teeth and claws around them. "Maybe we shouldn't have been talking so much and instead been moving. You know, to keep from something like this happening." Ophelia said as she backed away from the edge of the ring, the young man doing the same. A sudden crackling noise at her feet made her look down and her eyes opened in surprise as she saw ice beginning to form on the ground. "Your Semblance?"

"Yeah. It comes in handy when dealing with a lot of enemies. You got one?"

She nodded. "Not one that would be too useful right now. I can see Auras, but considering we're surrounded by Grimm-"

"You're useless?" he finished.

"In a sense…" she growled. "But I have an idea, if you don't mind being bait for a while." She heard him chuckle and turned around to see him looking almost as feral as the Grimm. _Is he all there?_

"Get moving and get this plan of yours into action." He suddenly dashed forwards, firing off a round from his weapon to make him spin as he cut into the monsters.

Sighing in frustration, Ophelia gripped her weapon tightly and began to run towards the Beowolves, trying not to slip on the ice. As she came within striking distance of their claws, she jumped over their heads and continued running, turning around to see if she was clear after getting a decent distance away. Seeing that none of them had followed her, she laid down on the ground and pressed a button on her rifle, causing it to change back to a sniper rifle. Another button was pressed, causing a bipod to pop out of the front of the body. Taking out a silver bullet from the pouch on her right hip, she pressed the final button.

The barrel of the rifle split again, though only the front half, and extended outwards. On the body, the top lifted up, revealing what looked to be a tube of pulsing energy. Placing the bullet into the rear of that tube, she shoved the section back down. She could feel the energy begin to build inside of her rifle as she took aim at the Beowolves. Satisfied with her shot, she looked towards the young man. "Get out of there, now!" she shouted. Immediately he sprung from over their heads, flipping backwards as he fired off more shots. As he cleared the danger zone, she pulled the trigger.

The bullet that she'd loaded was made of a special alloy that enhanced the effects of dust. The dust chamber that she'd loaded it into contained an equally special type of Dust that was often saved for demolitions due to its raw, destructive power. As she pulled the trigger, the bullet, charged with the explosive Dust, rocketed out of the rifle like a violet meteor and slammed into a Beowolf. The effect was instantaneous as a sphere of bright, silver and violet energy consumed the Beowolves. When it disappeared, so had the Grimm.

Letting out a whistle of surprise, the young man turned to her. "You couldn't have done that earlier?"

"I have to be still when I prepare that shot, otherwise the Dust could backfire on me." she explained, standing up and moving Angel's Mercy to her back. "And I have a few questions for you, namely why you're here."

A sudden, angry howl erupted from seemingly nowhere as a flash of lightning illuminated a massive Beowolf, its single good eye staring at the young man with hatred. Turning around, it ran off, along with several others. "He's why I'm here. And he's why I'm leaving." he answered simply, starting towards where they'd seen the monster. "Thanks for the help." he called over his shoulder before disappearing into the rainy night.

She huffed in annoyance. "Yes, because-" Remembering that he actually _did_ save her, she bit her tongue. "Damn…" she muttered. Turning away from the village center, she began to make her way back to her home.

* * *

Letting out a groan of exhaustion, Ophelia slowly placed Angel's Mercy back in its case before throwing off her helmet. She was about to take off her outfit when the sound of someone knocking on her front door caused her to wince. "This had better be important…" she muttered, grabbing her helmet and putting it back on. Walking downstairs, she hesitated opening the door but eventually gave in and opened it.

Standing in the doorway was a woman with blonde hair and emerald green eyes behind a pair of thin, rectangular glasses. She wore white, long sleeved top and a black business skirt. On her back was a cape, though whether it was torn or designed that way was hard to tell, that was purple on the inside and black on the outside. She held a black umbrella over her head. "Is this the home of Ophelia Goode?" she asked in a calm, businesslike manner. If Ophelia's manner of dress surprised her, she did a good job of hiding it.

"Yes, it is. In fact, I am her." Ophelia crossed her arms over her chest as she stepped aside. "Would you prefer to die from hypothermia or would you like to come in?" Unbeknownst to this woman, Ophelia was doing something she rarely ever did: She was letting someone in her house. Normally, she wouldn't even bother, but something about the way this woman carried herself told her it would be wise to allow her in.

Nodding in gratitude, the woman collapsed her umbrella and stepped into Ophelia's empty living room. "Thank you. The weather here is dreadful. To think that it does this practically year round…" She shook her head. "Never mind. Miss Goode, I am Glynda Goodwitch, a member of Beacon Academy." From her sleeve, she pulled out a small envelope. "I believe that you recently turned seventeen, correct?" When Ophelia nodded, she held the envelope out to her. "This… is from your mother, Angela."

"What?" Ophelia looked from the woman, to the envelope, and back to the woman. Taking it, she looked at her warily. "How do you have this? How do you even know who my mother is, yet alone who I am?"

"Angela was a Huntress, and one of the best." The news shocked the young woman, though Goodwitch didn't notice. "In her will, it was said that, upon coming of age, you would be presented an opportunity to enter Beacon Academy. That is, if you so choose."

Opening the letter, Ophelia quickly read through it, her eyes scanning each word. What this woman was saying was all true: Her mother had left it in her will that she was to be extended an invitation to Beacon Academy. Letting the arm holding the letter fall to the side, she thought about it for a moment. _Becoming a Huntress? I've never even considered something like that. Though, it would mean getting away from here… They would never bother me again… _"I'm assuming that Huntresses get paid, correct?"

Sighing, the teacher nodded. "Yes…" she said with some irritation. "Though only after you begin to take on jobs, which you can do from your third year onwards. Of course, there have been exceptions where teams or individuals that have shown exemplary skill may partake in missions before that time, though this is rare."

Letting that sink in, Ophelia took a deep breath. "When do I go?"

* * *

That had been six months ago. After accepting Goodwitch and her mother's offer, she had quickly made the necessary arrangements, including finding a new doctor to work at the village. Though she hated that it seemed like the villagers would go to her for every little thing, she couldn't simply allow them to be without some help.

And so, she now found herself on the airship that would be taking her to Beacon. To her new life, her new career. _If what Goodwitch told me is true, this may very well be the best way to earn the money I need… That is, assuming I don't die first._ As she looked out the window of the ship and to the ground below, she was unaware of someone walking up behind her.

"Huh, never thought I'd see you again." Whirling around, she was surprised to see the young man from six months ago standing before her, his clothes now in better condition, though he sported a new scar just below his left eye. "Though I can't see you beneath that helmet, I'm betting you feel the same." Shrugging, he extended a hand towards her. "I'm Zander Pagos. Figure I should've told you my name back then, but I was busy chasing Scarface."

She ignored the hand and instead stared at him. "I'm Ophelia Goode. I… don't believe I ever thanked you for your help that night, so… Thank you." Pulling the hand back, he stared back at her for a moment. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to think about my future." Turning away from him, she began to think, but not about her future.

She was thinking of her mother.

* * *

**_And the final Prologue is finished!_**

**_Well, to be honest, it's been pretty much finished for a while now... I just needed to tweak a few things here and there. As to why I uploaded it today considering I uploaded one yesterday, consider it a present for how long it took for my move to get finished. That being said, it'll take some time for the rest of the story to come out, so don't expect a ton of uploads in this fashion._**

**_Also, yeah the whole 'special Dust-bullet' is my own idea, but think about it: They use Dust for offensive purposes already. Wouldn't they have created something to amplify the power of Dust? And yes, while I know Dust is already capable of exploding, if it comes in all varieties, surely there's an extra explosive type that could be used in demolitions. Just my own little theories, take them for what you will._**

**_Anyways, I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read this story. If you'd be so kind as to leave a review, it would be greatly appreciated. Regardless of whether you do or don't, I hope you all have a wonderful day._**


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